As the morning sun softly filtered through the curtains, Charles stirred in his bed, groaning as he felt the throbbing in his head, a relentless headache pounding like a drum. He slowly blinked his eyes open, his disheveled hair sticking out in all directions, and his face etched with fatigue.
But as he tried to sit up and make sense of the pounding in his head, he froze in shock. There, mere inches away from him, lay Flower, soundly asleep. His eyebrows furrowed in surprise and confusion. How on earth had Flower ended up in his bed, sleeping so close to him?
Carefully, he lifted the quilt that covered them both, revealing something that left him utterly stunned.
Under the quilt, he found their hands entwined, fingers interlocked in a way that spoke of a night filled with closeness and intimacy. His jaw dropped in disbelief, and he couldn't help but wonder how this unexpected turn of events had come to be. He then remembered at how he came home last night.
